Hetalia drabbles
by Republic of Yolossia
Summary: These are all the drabbles that made from prompts I received on tumblr that I thought I'd post on here too. They are for various pairings and groups, some romantic, some platonic, some sad, some fluffy etc. Set in canonverse and au, depending on the fic
1. Fight me- Finland

_My first prompt. Contains Finland and my Valtio oc, who is a micronation in Finland and Tino's youngest son. Contains hints of Sufin and Hanatamago family._

…

"Recognise me!" screamed Valtio, kicking his Isi's leg again, trying to get some reaction out of the man.

Finland just chuckled, continuing to wash the dishes, which when you had a partner and six growing children, was a hefty task. The five older boys had mysteriously disappeared after dinner when Finland suggested they help him wash up. Even Sweden had politely excused himself, something about taking their dog for a walk. But Valtio stood in the middle of the kitchen, puppy eyes wide and beaming up at him, saying he'd help his wonderful Isi.

Finland should've known not to trust anything the six year said any more, and, soon enough, he became more of a hindrance than a help.

"I'm independent!" he cried, head-butting Finland in the thigh, which was where the tiny child came up to. "I'm a grown up country so acknowledge me! I wanna be in the EU too!" He aimed punch after punch at his guardian, who just shrugged, placing a sopping wet plate on the draining board and starting to wash another. After hundred of years fighting and being ruled over, he was not going to be phased by a teeny little micronation who could barely string a sentence together. He wondered where Valtio learned all those words though. His boss, probably. Still, it wasn't half as bad as what Ladonia, Sealand and Jamtland could come out with.

"Fucking recognise me you shit!"

Okay, never mind.

Finland knew he used some pretty colourful language on a day to day basis, but there was no way his six year old son was allowed to swear too. Another head-butt to the leg and Finland lost his temper.

"All right, if that's how you want to do things!" he cried, pulling the knife he was washing out of the soapy water and aiming it at the brat. "Touch me again and I'll stab you!"

Valtio screamed, backing away quickly; face crumpling before he burst into tears, plopping down into a sitting position and beginning to wail.

"I'm sooorry Isi!" he cried, "please don't knife meee!"

Finland looked away, slipping the knife back into the water and feeling like the biggest bastard ever. There was a big difference between standing up for himself against another adult, and threatening a small child.

"No, I'm sorry baby," he cooed, bending down lifting Valtio up, "that was mean of Isi."

"Yes it was!" the child pouted, lightly slapping his father in the face.

"But you go too far sometimes," Finland continued; "I've told you, my boss doesn't recognise you, so I can't either."

"But I want to be a country!"

"You will, when you're older," Finland assured him, "but being a nation isn't all it's cracked up to be, so enjoy your life now while you can."

"I'll try," Valtio sniffed, "but you have to be nice to me!"

"I will." Finland gave his son a kiss on the cheek, causing the other to cry out in protest.

"Now, do you want to help Isi with the washing up?"

"No, I'm busy."


	2. Paint me- TRNSea

_TRNSea this time, set in canonverse._

…

"Will you hurry up already," Kuzey snapped, trying his best not to move his face, the face that Peter was currently trying to draw.

"Genius takes time!" the boy snapped back, scribbling away at the notepad resting on his knees. The pair were sitting on Kuzey's bed, on a play-date their fathers had arranged in an effort for them to get along. It was too early to tell if it was working.

"Especially when there's no genius to begin with."

"Piss off! If Wy and Kugelmugel can do this, then so can I, the great Sealand!"

"You still struggle with shoe laces."

"Not true!" cried Peter, "I just choose to wear Velcro! Now shut up and hold still, I'm nearly done…"

Kuzey breathed out sharply through his nostrils, but apart from that gave no response. Turkey could come in at any minute- the concept of knocking was still beyond that man- and he didn't want his father to catch him fighting the other boy. He wondered briefly what would happen if he caught them kissing instead, but quickly pushed that thought out of his mind. There was no way he wanted to kiss Peter. No way. Nope.

"Finished!" the Brit cried, jumping up and down excitedly, "I told you I could do it. Wanna see your portrait?"

"Sure," Kuzey crawled over and sat beside Peter, who passed him the notebook.

If Kuzey so totally didn't want to kiss Peter before, he certainly didn't want to even touch the guy now. Peter was a piss-poor artist.

"What do you think?" Peter looked at him, wide-eyed and hopeful.

"It's… fantastic," Kuzey tried his best to smile at Peter, and his angry stick man with a red blob for a hat.

"You don't like it?"

"No I do! I'm just in awe of how awesome it is."

"See? I told you the great Sealand was an artist good enough to rival those of Wy and Kugelmugel! With these skills I could get the other countries to recognise-"

"Peter, you're a crap artist."


	3. Zip me- Ladkug

_This one contains Ladkug, as older teens. Slightly nsfw._

…

"Hold still," Franz hissed, trying to slip his boyfriend's shirt off, but his hands were shaking. It wasn't like they hadn't done this before, but Franz still got shivers at the thought of being about to run his hands over Lars' toned shoulders and chest, and other body parts too. Last year, the young Swede had had a growth spurt that left him almost as tall as his father, and with eyesight just as bad.

The shirt finally unbuttoned, Franz ripped it off, throwing it on his bedroom floor before placing a hand on Lars' chest and roughly pushing him onto the bed. The other grinned up at him, reaching up to pull his sweater-vest off then fumbling with the buttons of Franz's own shirt. The Austrian, meanwhile, delicately removed the other's glasses, resting them on the bedside table so there was no chance of them breaking.

Once the both of them were shirtless, Franz bent down to kiss the other messily on the lips before trailing kisses down Lars' jaw, neck and shoulders. He couldn't help but grin in an animalistic fashion at the noises his boyfriend made. One hand rested on Lars' chest, feeling the teen's racing heartbeat, the other playing with his jeans. Franz skilfully unbuttoned the top of Lars' trousers and he felt the other lift his arms up, running them along his back, scratching him, causing Franz to moan in pleasure. It turned out they both liked it rough.

Well, one hand was doing that. And when Franz realised there was a glowing light coming from behind him, he realised what the other was doing.

"Lars, for the last time," he growled, "you're not allowed to go on tumblr mobile when we're having sex."

"But my followers need me!"


	4. Unbind me- TRNSea

_Another TRNSea, this time an au where they're adults and engaged._

_Warning for blood, gore and mentions of torture._

…

"Kuzey? Kuzey! Where are you?" Peter almost sobbed, running through corridor after corridor of the abandoned hotel. He had to be in here somewhere. This was where the kidnappers had told him to find the other man, now that Peter, and Kuzey's family, had scraped together the money to pay his ransom. But where was he?

Peter knew Sadik and Stelios were waiting outside in a car, ready to rush Kuzey to hospital if need be, and he probably needed to, judging by the cries of agony and fear they'd heard on every homemade tape recording the kidnappers had sent to them. It made Peter furious to think about what they'd done to his fiancé, and how he'd been completely helpless to stop it.

He'd been out visiting his younger brothers when it happened. Whilst he'd sat his family down to tell them of his engagement, Kuzey had been beaten and dragged away from his own house. Peter still remembered coming home to find the place trashed with blood everywhere, and the note. The note that said he needed to raise £2000 or he'd never see his partner again. The note had told him to not involve the police either, and Peter had spent an hour lying on his sitting room floor weeping and shouting before he finally pulled himself together enough to phone Kuzey's father and tell him what happened.

Sadik was the one who kept him, and Stelios, strong through it all. They'd not told anyone else, so all they had was each other, every time a note or grim voice recording was posted to them. The old Turkish man held the younger two's hands as the listened to or read whatever the kidnappers had sent them. Peter knew Sadik must've been in just as bad a state as they were, but never showed it, apart from the occasional angry outburst. They'd raised the money though, left it where they'd been instructed to (a deserted car park) and waited for news of Kuzey's whereabouts.

They'd said he was here. But what if they'd been lying? What if they'd killed him, purposefully or by accident, and Peter would have to search the whole place before finally accepting his beloved Kuzey wasn't coming back?

No! Peter had to believe he was alive! They'd find him, get him all the help he needed, and when he'd recovered, the pair of them would get married and this would all be some terrible nightmare.

_If_Kuzey recovered, that is.

"Adnan?!" he called again, "where the hell are you?" There were five floors to this hotel; he could be here for some time.

Peter heard a whine so quiet and pitiful he almost missed it.

"Kuzey!" he cried, rushing towards the door where he'd heard that sound and kicking it. The old, rotten door fell apart from the strike and he rushed into the room, gagging at the dust and smell of blood. He found himself in a tiny room with a double bed, desk, and whatever else people expected to find in hotel rooms. He wasn't paying attention to that, but to the man slumped against the wall opposite.

Kuzey was half-conscious, thin ropes binding him and tying him to the radiator, a scrap of cloth covering his mouth. His short hair was caked in blood and grease whilst bruises and welts covered his body. He was still wearing the jeans and hoodie Peter had last seen him in, but they were torn and filthy now.

"No!" he rushed over, falling to his knees and taking the other's face in his hands, "I'm so sorry…"

Kuzey looked up at him, honey-coloured eyes dull, but filled with relief. Through his gag, Peter could see the other man's smile. "I'm gonna get you out of here," he told his fiancé, "then me, your brother and your dad are going to take you to hospital and they're gonna help you there."

Kuzey nodded weakly and Peter reached into his pocket, pulling out a pocket knife. Kuzey saw the gleam of the blade and gave a strangled noise, struggling against his ropes and trying to wriggle away, eyes full of fear. He didn't honestly think Peter would…

Apparently yes.

"Hey wait, stop!" Peter cried, "I need to untie you!" he quickly cut away Kuzey's gag and the wretched thing fell off, hitting the floor, ignored.

The young man took a deep breath, wincing in pain. "Get that thing away from me," he hissed.

"I can't," Peter moved around behind him, causing Kuzey to shake in fear, "I can't free you by hand."

"Then… be quick," Kuzey sighed, "I don't want to be near another knife again…"

Peter gulped, trying to control his rage has he sawed at the ropes. Soon, the ones binding his arms to his torso fell away and he moved on to the ropes around Kuzey's wrists. _The bastards_, Peter thought viciously as he looked at the scabs and stripped skin that was once Kuzey's lower arms. Oh if he ever found out who had done this…

Once the young man was free, he slumped onto his side and Peter quickly put the knife away.

"Kuzey!" he cried again, pulling his bloody, beaten fiancé onto his lap, just cradling him whilst the other began to sob.

"They… tortured me," he sobbed, clinging to Peter and soaking his shirt with blood and tears.

"There now… it's okay… it's all over now…"


	5. Value me- TRNSea

_More TRNSea, this time as middle schoolers_

…

"Yes?" Kuzey glared at the boy in front of him, wishing he'd wipe that stupid grin off his face. Peter just smiled on.

"I have something to tell you," he sang, giggling in a way that caused Kuzey's frown to deepen.

"Well, go on then," he sighed, hoping it wasn't something embarrassing. They were in the middle of the school playground dammit. Kuzey wondered where Peter's brothers were, and why he wasn't annoying them instead. Well, the youngest two hadn't started school yet, but the other three should be around somewhere. Then again, even when the younger ones were around, Peter still liked to 'hang out' with Kuzey, much to the other boy's horror.

"I know we didn't get off to the best start," both boys cast their minds back to that time in nursery when they'd first met, and had a fight over the crayons, "but I like to think that, as we grew, our friendship did too."

"And by that do you mean 'we didn't have as many punch-ups'?"

"Basically, yes," Peter laughed, "but we had good times too!"

"I guess…"

"Which is why I'd like to take the opportunity to say I really, really like you."

"That's nice to know," Kuzey gave a sarcastic thumbs-up.

"No, I mean, I think you're the cutest boy ever," Peter blushed, looking away, "and you're adorable and have nice eyes and I like your hair. And your nose is cute too! I want to kiss it…"

"Is this a dare?" Kuzey looked at him wearily; he didn't know what else to say.

"No!" Peter leaned in and kissed him lightly on the nose, "you really are the biggest cutie."


	6. Mourn me- huttmol

_Huttmol this time. Set in mine and tumblr user kugemugelsusbstick's snktalia au which follows the micronations. This chapter contains mentions of gore and death._

…

Michael slumped in one of Trost's alleys, letting out yet another strangled cry. He could still see the image of his friend's lifeless body, burnt into the back of his eyelids so that every time he blinked he was reminded that he'd failed the other boy. He was a terrible leader who couldn't even look after his own squad. Now he'd have that gory memory forever, along with the images of everyone else that died in the battle for Trost, and in the future, if he made it that long.

There wasn't much of Oscar left to find. His arm, shoulder and half his face and torso had been ripped away by what Michael guessed had been titans. You never knew though; no one had seen him die. Oscar had died, all alone, possibly crying out in agony and wondering why his friends had abandoned him.

He still couldn't believe that had been the same smiling, laughing, _living_ Oscar he'd known and... well, loved. How could such a dear friend be reduced to a stinking, bloodied corpse lying in the street unnoticed and almost forgotten?

Michael could scarcely believe he wasn't coming back. He wanted Oscar to tell him everything would be alright, then they'd hug and pretend the whole battle had been just some horrible nightmare. But nothing was going to bring Oscar back to life.

"We were supposed to join the Military Police together…" he whispered, running his hands down his face, which was soaked with tears, then hugging his knees and just sitting there, rocking back and forth slowly. Occasionally, he'd let out a sob.

"Why would you leave me like this?" he cried to the bins and walls either side of him, "didn't you know I needed you?"

He sighed, curling up into a ball.

"Didn't you know I loved you?"


	7. Remember me- sufin

_Nyo Sufin this time, in their late 60s/early 70s. Warning for dementia._

…

Astrid walked as fast as her tired old legs could carry her, pushing the door to the kitchen open to find her wife of over 40 years staring miserably at the smashed cup of coffee on the floor. So that was what caused the crashing sound.

Taika Väinämöinen-Oxenstierna just cried silently, occasionally giving a loud sniff as tears streamed down her wrinkled face. Her once blonde bob of hair was now white and she was even shorter than she used to be, back and shoulders hunched due to the combined pressure of an ageing body and constant tiredness. Her skin was papery and covered in lines, hands now bony and shaking. Astrid still thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

_She was getting worse_, Astrid realised. She'd been ill for years now, and was slowly becoming more and more forgetful, and unable to function on a day to day basis. There were times where she could barely string a sentence together. She'd even forgotten to turn the kitchen light on, not noticing the grey evening light around her. The woman wasn't even sure of what to do with the cup, just staring at it with a mixture of confusion and disappointment.

"Taika…" she sighed, shuffling further into the room and resting heavily on her walking stick. "Are you hurt?"

Taika jumped, glancing up at Astrid and shying away, quivering in her pyjamas and slippers, which were covered in cold coffee.

"You know you're too ill to use the kettle," Astrid sighed, "you shoulda tol' me you wanted a coffee and I'd have made it fer you."

"Who…" Taika looked at her in confusion, "you?"

"What're you talking about?" Astrid let out a nervous chuckle, "it's me, Astrid, yer wife!"

"I don't…"

_No._

Astrid shook her head, refusing to believe it. The doctor had told them it would be years before Taika got like this. She knew her love's memory was getting bad- she always got her daughters mixed up when they came to visit- but surely she wouldn't forget Astrid too?

"We married 45 years ago," she told the woman, "in a big hotel. Adopted our first kid a year later. We named her Pauline, remember?"

Taika shook her head, "you…" her eyebrows knitted together as she tried to get her sentence out, "scare me."

Astrid felt like a pair of hands had just ripped her heart to pieces, the same hands that were tearing Taika's mind apart. Taika hadn't found her wife scary-looking in decades, not since their first date.

"I jus' have a scary face," she said reassuringly, "I'm nice, promise."

Taika did not look convinced.

"We'll talk later," Astrid sighed, "gotta clean up first." She gently placed her hands on Taika's upper arms, moving her to one of the dining table chairs and ordering her to sit, despite the other woman's protests and insults. Taika never used to be this irritable…

"You might fall over," she explained. Taika had done that several times before, like she'd just forgotten to walk. Once, it happened whilst she was stirring a pan of spaghetti and almost scalded herself, which was when Astrid decided she'd be doing all the household chores from then on.

Taika just glared at her, continuing to do so as Astrid slowly knelt on the floor to sweep up the broken cup. She didn't complain about the ache it gave her back and knees, or the mess, or the fact that that had been her favourite mug; those things weren't important.

She hissed at her stiff joints as she hobbled over to the bin, dumping the pieces of china in it and turning to her wife.

"Married?" asked Taika, "us?"

"Yes, married," Astrid smiled warmly, sitting down next to her. Taika just stared into space, hands resting on the table. "We met in the park, when you were looking after yer little sister. You thought I was a scary tall Viking woman, and just squeaked when I said hello. You saw I was by myself later, and decided to try talking to me." She rested her hand on her wife's, and Taika looked at her curiously, "You ap'logised for being rude, and we spoke a bit."

Taika nodded, looking away.

"I first tol' you I loved you at Julia Beilschmidt's party," Astrid continued, picking at her walking stick, which was leaning against the table, "I was drunk, an' fallin' all over the place. You laughed and steadied me and said you loved me too. I cried, or threw up. Can't remember."

Taika giggled, a young woman for the tiniest moment.

"You're the one who proposed," Astrid blinked back tears, wiping her wrinkled eyes with her other hand, "came home late from work and you were there, with candles an' flowers just standin' in the middle of the room beaming. And you pulled this little box out from behind yer back… got down on one knee..."

"Astrid?" Taika looked up in horror.

"Yes?"

"I'm… sorry," her face crumpled as she began to wail, "I forgot…"

"I know."

"I'm… horrible… mad…"

"No," Astrid held her close, letting the other woman sob into her dressing gown, "you're not horrible, just ill. You're lovely and I'll always love you, no matter how many times you forget."

"But…"

"Shush," Astrid stroked her hair, "it's okay. Everything will be alright."

Astrid knew she was wrong; nothing would be alright again.


	8. Haunt me- robul

_One-sided Robul, with ghost Romania. Warning for death._

…

Alin peeked around the shelf he was hiding behind, watching the young man pick out a box of cereal and dump it in his basket. He didn't know why he bothered hiding; no one could see him. Human habit, he assumed. It wasn't like he'd been dead for very long.

The man, Tsvetan, moved on to the next aisle, and Alin followed, carefully moving around stands and other shoppers. He knew he could just walk through them, but kept forgetting, which made him even more frustrated. Yup, he definitely wasn't used to this ghost business.

He didn't know why he followed Tsvetan around, but it wasn't like the Bulgarian was the only one he haunted. He followed his little brother too, just to make sure the kid was behaving himself, and staying out of trouble. He was; Andrei was good like that. He guessed if ghosts could actually pick up objects, he'd follow Elizabeta or Ivan around and throw things at them for his own amusement. But alas, the one thing he was really looking forward to about ghost-hood turned out to be a big myth. He growled at the thought.

He found Tsvetan in the wine section, basket on the floor and carefully peering at the labels, bottles tinkling as he picked one up.

"Careful," Alin whispered, "that stuff can kill, if you're not careful." He stood in the middle of the aisle, laughing at himself, though no one saw.

Sighing and suddenly feeling lonely, Alin looked at Tsvetan, who was beginning to wander off, and wondered why he even spent so much time haunting the man.

He guessed it was because the fact that Tsvetan was part of the reason he was dead.

They'd met when Alin had popped into the café where Tsvetan worked during a lunch break for a snack. The man had barely noticed him as he took Alin's order and walked away, returning with his meal and leaving again without a second glance.

Alin came back the next day. He couldn't help himself, since he was being served by a complete cutie! He ordered the same thing, and smiled at Tsvetan the whole time, which, on reflection, was probably more creepy than sweet. For a whole week, Alin had came in and ordered the same thing, and eventually struck up a conversation with the guy, finding out his name and a bit about his life. Tsvetan hadn't asked about Alin's life much, only answering his own questions to be polite. He treated Alin like any other customer, as was his job.

Eventually, Alin plucked up the courage to ask him out. He'd had it all planned out, buying a small bunch of flowers on his way there.

He'd been so excited, he'd stepped onto the road without looking.

Alin still wasn't sure what happened. One minute, he was lying on the tarmac in unbelievable pain, the next he was standing, staring numbly at his own mangled body, which soon gathered a horrified crowd. He'd not been able to move when the ambulance came and took him- the real, solid him- away.

When he eventually moved, he'd run home to his little brother, and reached him just after the kid had got the news by phone. Their parents were out, so he'd just sat with Andrei as the child screamed and cried alone, unable to comfort him and feeling completely helpless to stop his brother's pain.

Bringing his mind back to the present, Alin followed Tsvetan into another aisle. He wondered how the waiter would react if he knew he was being haunted, but Tsvetan didn't even know Alin was dead. No one had known of Alin's affections, or that the two had even interacted, so there was no way of Tsvetan knowing. Alin wondered if Tsvetan thought about him, and wondered why he never showed up at lunch time. No, he'd just assume Alin had found somewhere else to eat, if he even thought about it at all.

Alin hated to admit it, but he had meant nothing to the other man.

As Tsvetan disappeared around a corner, Alin let out a cry of frustration, grabbing at a jar with the intention of smashing it on the floor. But his hands just want through it.

"Oh, right," Alin sighed, "I'm dead…"

Instead, he settled for unheard screaming.


	9. Tell me- seyprus

_Cyprus x Seychelles fluff._

…

"Yay for my brave, strong boyfriend," Michelle chirped jokingly, clapping as Stelios tossed the cockroach he'd just caught out the window, ears turning red as he tried to hide his blushing face from her. They were in Michelle's sitting room, the windows thrown wide open in an attempt to attract some sea breeze. He grinned shyly at her, and she winked, causing him to blush again.

"But seriously, thanks," she walked over to the Cypriot, snaking her arms around his waist, "I don't usually mind bugs. With most of them I take a deep breath, think of England, and squish them with my shoe, but cockroaches scare me. Can't get squished, see?"

"I understand," Stelios shrugged, holding her tiny hands in his large ones and swaying slightly, "I get the same with large dogs. Never liked them! I think it's cause one bit me as a kid."

Michelle chuckled, "it's nice to know you have a weakness."

"That sounded very unnerving," Stelios whined, voice going slightly high-pitched, which it always did when he was tense, "should I be worried?"

"Not at all! I just meant it makes you seem more… human."

"Oh… and you didn't see me as one before? Still, would it make me seem even more human if I told you I don't like loud noises either? Or fighting." He frowned, turning to face her. "I guess I'm scared of lots of things…"

"Everyone's scared of lots of things," Michelle commented, standing on the tips of her toes to stroke his face, "I'm scared of looking silly in front of people I don't know… and people I know. Heck, I don't even like looking silly when I'm on my own."

"Yeah it's quite nerve-wracking, talking to people…" Stelios sighed, sitting back down on Michelle's sofa, the other plopping down next to him, "but hey, you're never as embarrassing as you think you are, remember!"

"Thanks. I guess there's still a lot we don't know about each other…"

Stelios nodded, "well, we've only been going out for- what?- three weeks? Not long at all…"

"True," Michelle giggled in her light, sing-song voice, "what do you say to a little get-to-know-you session right here?"

"Um… don't you think it's a bit early for-"

"I meant talking!"

"Oh," Stelios covered his face, which had once more turned bright red, "sorry! Wow I thought I'd finally managed to pull my mind out of the gutter…"

Michelle laughed, patting him on the back.

"Don't worry about it! Now, tell me all about yourself!"


	10. Quiet me- FraRus

_Frarus, with nyo Russia. Warning for mentions of miscarriages._

…

Francis had never dared to believe he could feel this miserable, but as he sat in the doctor's office, head in his hands with his wife's sobs in one hear, and the apologies of the doctor in the other, he just felt like sinking into the ground. He wanted to curl up into a ball and die. He wanted to scream and shout and cry until there were no more tears left in his body.

But he had to be strong for Anya. After all, she was the one who'd been carrying the baby. She was the one who'd bled and doubled over in pain, refusing to believe what was happening, even when they were walking into the hospital.

"Tell me you're lying!" Anya shouted at the doctor through wails. She was a complete mess as she sobbed noisily, hugging herself and breathing heavily. "Tell me!" she spat threateningly, glaring daggers at the person in front of her, who trembled.

"I'm sorry, but the tests are conclusive. You've had a miscar-"

"Don't you dare say that word in my presence!" Anya cried, burying her face in her hands and stomping her feet.

"Come on, dearest love," Francis soothed, "don't take it out on the doctor. They're just trying to help." He took her hands and helped her up, "thank you, doctor."

"Just doing my job. You _will _consider counselling, won't you?"

"Of course," Francis led Anya into the corridor of the hospital, where she yanked her hand away and slumped against the yell, continuing to sob.

"It's all my fault," she wailed, "I'm the worst mother…"

"No! don't say that," Francis rushed over, kneeling in front of her, "you're not to blame!"

"I couldn't even protect our child when it was inside me!"

"It's not your fault!" Francis took her hands, rocking them back and forth gently, "sometimes these things happen. It's terrible, but part of life."

"I don't want them to be a part of life! How dare life take away my child?!"

"I don't like it either," Francis sighed, "but it's happened." He lowered his head, tears of his own starting to spill down his face. He felt like a failure too.

"Oh, my little sweetheart," Anya rested a finger under his chin and lifted his face up, "don't you start crying too; that scares me."

Francis made a noise that was half-sib and half-chuckle, giving his wife a watery smile.

"Sorry, precious," he choked, "now get up and we'll go home, okay?"

"Okay."


End file.
